


Moving Ahead

by Lilili_cat



Series: JL [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-11-02 13:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilili_cat/pseuds/Lilili_cat
Summary: Follows the incest route from Clawing Your Way Out.Drabble-fic series, intended as a fun little exercise in getting me to learn more writing techniques.  :)





	1. Futile Regrets

**Futile Regrets**  
  
  
Up and down.

Up and down.

Mito watches as the man who would've become her brother-in-law from another world breathes, and she doesn't know what to think, what to feel.

He's survived. They won. But...

But at what cost?

One part of her is glad. They've put away her mad fiance. They've gotten the information they needed to tear down his creations, save those they can build on top of, defeated his army (an easy thing now that their leader is dead) and accepted the various clans' surrender.

The ones that were most pro-Hashirama will need to be punished and watched over. Perhaps exiled in case they prove a danger to the others. The majority will be rehabilitated and allowed to live in peace.

Izuna hadn't liked that. Izuna had wanted them all punished for supporting the tyrant, but while it's shortsighted, Mito can't really blame him. He was held as a prisoner and has much more cause to hold a grudge against them. Mito does not, and she will not allow Madara to either. She, Madara and even Izuna are strong enough to resist against Hashirama. These other clans are weaker and many made the decision to bow their heads in order to spare their kin and family.

Mito understands that, given what happened to her own clan. Izuna wouldn't.

But, for now, that is set aside. The clans will come later, after more important things.

Things like the man in front of her.

His chest rises, slow and calm, drugged as he is with enough poppymilk to put out a horse. And Mito...

Mito cannot help but feel responsible.

It was her jutsu that brought him here. It was her and Madara and Izuna that needed their help and ripped them from the comfort and safety of their own world. It was to defeat her mad fiance and gain their victory that he was captured, held, violated.

The greater part of her is wretched with guilt, made all the worse for the fact that she would do it all over again, if she had a choice and knew what it would lead to.

The man before her has become dear to Izuna. The man before her is dear to the sane Hashirama that won them their victory. The man before her is, from all accounts, as remarkable as his namesake in this world was. But ultimately, Mito does not know him.

Ultimately, her responsibility is to her own. Madara and Izuna and the memory of her dead clan.

She is sorry that he was hurt in this way, that he had to suffer for their victory. And she knows that she's very wrong, very terrible in what she feels.

But...

But...

It doesn't change things.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers to the sleeping man, softly brushing his feathery white bangs out of his face. “I'm sorry that it came to this, that I brought this upon you. I can't change what happened...I won't change what happened, but I promise you this: I will do all that is in my power to help you heal.”

She owes him that much. They all owe him that much. They all owe him so much more.

The price of their victory is his suffering, is the other Hashirama's grief, is the ruin of the brotherly bond between these men from another world, but she won't allow it to be more than that.

Just that, now that they have their victory.

Just.

As if it weren't already enough. As if they haven't already taken more than their right.

As if she, as if they, can ever pay them back.


	2. Unexpected

**Unexpected**  
  
  
Up and down.

Up and down.

Izuna watches Tobirama breathe, still and silent on the bed, Mito tending to him as he lay helpless, and he says nothing. Izuna watches as she tries to ease him in his forced slumber, he watches as she dabs at his brow with a cool damp compress, as she checks his temperature and adjusts the seals to soften his sleep and keep the nightmares at bay.

She wants to repay her debt. They all do. Every one of them that gained from this man's sacrifice, that gained from the war won for them by people of another world.

He watches, and he wonders if they ever can repay that debt.

Aniki doesn't understand. He wasn't around when Hashirama took hm captive. He wasn't around when Izuna was kept in a cell, allowed no contact with anyone else, going stir-crazy with boredom and fear. He wasn't around when a former enemy, when Tobirama bargained for more and more freedoms for him (for his health, for his sanity, for _him_). He didn't see the Senju risk it all, his well-being, his body, his very sanity, just for a chance at gaining their freedom, the information that Izuna sent them week after week.

(They owe him. They owe him so much, so fucking much, and there will never be a way to repay it. There will never be a way to wipe the slate clean.)

And Aniki wasn't around as the toll weighed more and more heavily on Tobirama.

Izuna was.

Izuna saw him suffer for it. Saw him gamble everything, saw him display a care and strength and sacrifice that...that...

He takes in a deep breath, watching as that chest slowly rises and falls, and it's all he can do to keep himself from reaching out. From taking that limp hand in his.

Aniki owes this man much. Mito possibly even more. But Izuna? Izuna owes Tobirama the most out of all of them.

His sanity. His life. His freedom, all won at the sacrifice freely given by this man, with the face of an enemy. The man with the face he cut down once upon a time.

(He'll never forget that it was he who caused this, he who set loose the madness of Senju Hashirama in the first place when he cut down the man's little brother.)

Reconciling the events of these past several months, reconciling that it is Tobirama who played a pivotal role in saving him, Tobirama who gave so much of himself, Tobirama who he now admires, who he now truly respects as he's respected little else save Aniki.

It is mind boggling. The Senju he had pitted himself against all his life. The Senju that he shared that captivity with, who bartered himself in exchange for Izuna's comfort, information that Izuna could send to his Aniki and Mito, vital freedoms so that they could win over the mad tyrant...it threatens to rip Izuna in two.

He never wanted to like Tobirama. He never wanted to admire him. He never wanted to care for him, especially since Tobirama, _his_ Tobirama is dead, dead by his hand, dead many months now, and it's all his fault...!

He breathes and fights back the tears that threaten to leak out of his eyes, fights back against the heat in his chest, the burn deep in his belly.

It is futile, and he can no more fight against those than he can fight against the feelings brewing within him.

Tobirama has infected him, has sunk deep into his respect and admiration and _affection_, and there's nothing he can do about it.

And now he must watch as a person he has come to care for lays still in a bed, unable to relax without poppymilk, unable to bear the presence of his own brother and drowns in his own memories.


	3. Unforgiven

**Unforgiven**  
  
  
Hour after hour, he sits there, unmoving, watching as the Senju breathes. He sits there, Madara's little brother, in patient dedication, his heart in his eyes, tenderness upon his very gaze, and Madara worries.

He worries, and he rages, and he despairs.

He knows he should be thankful that a Senju Tobirama from another world helped them gain the information they needed to defeat Hashirama. He knows he should be thankful that that Senju Tobirama apparently sacrificed much to keep his little brother safe and sane while he was in the hands of the madman. He knows that. He _knows_.

But knowing with the head is different than knowing with the heart, and Madara's heart...is torn.

He's thankful. Truly he is. He's a shinobi no mono, and he understands sacrifice. Understands giving of himself so that other people (family, clan) can live another day. It is the basis of their entire way of life, and Madara excels at it, much as he rails against the necessity of it at all.

(What he wouldn't give for a life where he didn't need to constantly worry about his loved ones. What he wouldn't sacrifice for his little brother's safety and happiness.)

And this Senju Tobirama has given more than he could have ever asked for, more than could ever be expected of what was undoubtedly an enemy in another world, the same as this Senju Hashirama. The latter, there's no dual feelings at war. The latter, Madara is unequivocal in his gratefulness.

If it hadn't been for the Senju brothers from another world, if it hadn't been for Senju Hashirama and Senju Tobirama, then Madara, Izuna and Mito would all likely have lost their lives.

He shudders at the very thought of it, especially considering Hashirama's maddened anger towards Izuna for his little brother's death. While he does not doubt he and Mito would have received a clean, relatively painless death, he is sure the same would not have held true for Izuna. His old friend despised Izuna, even though Izuna had been fighting for his very life.

It is sheer hypocrisy, given that the key difference in who lived and who fell was Hashirama himself. And that, Madara can never understand. As an elder brother, as someone with responsibility for his little brother, for his _last little brother_, it is unfathomable that Hashirama doomed his own Tobirama to death.

No, he is thankful for the Senju brothers from another world's help, and he wishes them well. Both of them.

But...

But...

It's his weakness. The one thing that drives all other thoughts from his mind and causes a cloud of irrationality to descend upon his mind.

Izuna.

Izuna's obvious feelings for that Senju.

And Madara _can't_ be thankful, can't be fucking grateful because that same Senju threatens his own brotherly bond.

Madara doesn't even think Izuna knows it himself, but Madara has eyes (the best eyes in the entire clan), and he can see the tenderness in Izuna's gaze as he looks upon the sleeping Senju. He can see the softness in them as they watch the rise and fall of that Senju's chest, see the terrified love as Madara's little brother had fought to be at Tobirama's side, fought even against Madara himself.

He can't forgive Tobirama for that.

The other man can't stay in this world. His own brother would never let him (even though that is a relationship that Madara doubts will ever heal). And that means that, because of Senju Tobirama, Madara's own little brother will either break his heart...or Madara will lose Izuna to the other world when Izuna chooses to follow him.

He can't bear either. He can't abide either.

And so, even though he _knows_ it is not the other man's fault, knows that he, that this entire world, owes everything to that pair of brothers from another world, he can't forgive him, can't thank him, can't _force his heart to accept him_.

Izuna is his one and all. And this man threatens that.


	4. Fear

**Fear**  
  
  
Tobirama's asleep now. He had been panicking at first, but then they managed to get some poppymilk into him, with Mito carefully watching his dosage, and he's resting now. Peaceful, in a way he hasn't been since Hashirama got him back. His breathing is finally calm, a steady in and out, and Hashirama could sit here and watch him for hours.

Tobirama is so precious to him. He loves him so much. And the thought of how close he came to losing him, the thought of how close he _is_ to losing him hurts more than any wound he's ever received in battle.

It's not over. Not even close.

His little brother may be at peace now, may rest easily now, but that is the poppymilk at work. And Hashirama knows that, when Tobirama wakes, he will be back to flinching away from Hashirama (flinching, but trying to hide it and hurting himself all the while). When Tobirama wakes, he will shudder every time Hashirama is near, he will be unable to tolerate looking at him, at the man he once called Anija...

Tobirama hasn't called him that once since he got him back. Not even once. It's like he can't even bear to have that word in his mouth, on his tongue, leaving his throat. And Hashirama wants to hear it again. Wants to see his otouto look up at him with trusting, loving eyes and call out “Anija”. He wants his beloved little brother to lean close to him, to regale him about his experiments and research like he hasn't done in so long—

_And whose fault is that? Who was it that brushed him off? Kept looking for the Uchiha instead? Had eyes forever focused on Madara?_

He shudders, and he breathes, and he stares at his brother, sleeping with such deceptive calm in front of him.

He would give anything, _anything_, to have things go back the way they were. To remove the blot of the memories forced upon his otouto by his mad counterpart, to wipe away those experiences. He would give anything to have his brother awake and whole and _happy_, and he is so wretched, so miserable, knowing that...that...

He digs the heel of his palm into his eyes. He bites through the skin of his lower lip, unheeding of the copper tang that spills into his mouth. The pressure and the sharp pain is nothing compared to the knowledge that he would have never cherished his little brother like this had not this entire monstrosity happened.

This current feelings, his current desperation and concern and focus on Tobirama is because he nearly lost Tobirama. Nearly lost him to a madman who did lose his own Tobirama and forced Hashirama to, for the first time, contemplate a life, a possibility without his brother by his side.

It is terrifying, that possibility, but not as terrifying as the knowledge that he would never have come to realize it without this experience. That it took Tobirama's pain and suffering for him to not take his little brother for granted.

What a wretched, miserable brother he is. What a useless _ingrate_.

It should never have come to this. He should never have needed something like _this_ to open his eyes, to make him _see_ Tobirama.

And there's the ever circling thought that, even now, it may be too late.

His Tobirama, his beloved little brother, is reminded of his attacker every time he looks upon Hashirama. And he can't even be close by while his brother is infusing his chakra because he has the same chakra coils as the other man. The same face. The same voice. The same chakra signature.

_He is the same_, and it's this thought above all that threatens to tear him apart, that seeks to usurp his hold on his emotions.

Because, if he is the same, if that other Hashirama is just like him but having lost his own Tobirama then...

Then what stops Hashirama from hurting his beloved little brother, just like the man who is identical to him in nearly every way?

Even if Tobirama does heal, does get to a point where he can bear to near Hashirama without suffering, should he trust Hashirama?

Should Hashirama trust himself?

He does not know.

And so he sits here, watching his brother sleep and dreads when he will wake.


	5. Drifting

**Drifting**  
  
  
He should wake. He knows it. He yearns for it, strains for it. But...

But there's a part of him that shudders at the idea, that goes willingly into the embrace of darkness.

It's easier, not to think, not to feel, to only float by on the cloud he's surrounded in.

He can still hear them. Can still know that they're there, that they're around, but...

But this is better.

The poppymilk they fed him, it courses through his veins, dampens his thoughts, his emotions, his _feelings_, until he feels that they aren't tiny shuriken flowing through his veins, aren't kunai in his heart and through his back.

It's okay.

He can breathe now. He can relax now. He can...can...

He shouldn't want this. He should be fighting this. Fighting to get back to awareness, to throw off this yoke of false peace and rest, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to return to that.

He can't conceive of it now, caught as he is in this current sensation of nothingness, but he knows it was terrible. Knows that it was ripping him apart, just as Hashirama ripped him apart, just as...as...as...

No!

A spike of adrenaline, a jolt of terror. His eyes widen, and he bolts up, making as if he would leap up, away, away, away, but Mito sees—Mito, ever present, ever steady, ever reliable—and send a jolt of chakra through him. A jolt of chakra that...

It tingles, running through his veins, reactivating the poppymilk inside. It warms and softens and spreads like the warmth of a fireplace and...

He breathes.

His muscles relax.

His heartbeat slows and calms and mellows.

The drug runs through him, called to the surface once again by Mito's chakra and it draws him down, down down. Down into a dream of warmth and softness and mellowness, a siren-call for a drowning man.

It's okay now.

It's okay.

The poppymilk is running in him, and it's okay. All is okay. _He_ is okay.

The memories aren't here. Hashirama isn't here. He can't feel him at all. Can't feel him, can't feel the other one either, and that makes everything better. That makes it all okay.

He'll just float, on this cloud, cradled in this warmth and nothingness and bliss and...not think.

What's the purpose of thought?

He doesn't need to think.

He doesn't need to remember.

What's the use of it?

What's the use of it besides...besides...

Wait.

Why is that?

Why doesn't he need to think again?

It's because...

It's because thinking is pain. Remembering is pain, and he's so tired of pain.

Pain and shame and guilt and everything he can't conceive of right now. All terrible things that he can't bear, couldn't possibly breathe underneath its weight, and it's suffocating him, and he _can't bear it, can't bear it, can't bear it_...

Oh.

It's coming back. It's coming back again, and he's being crushed beneath it. His heart feels like it will be squeezed until it's nothing, and his chest feels tight and, and, and...!

His heart threatens to spike again. His eyes grow wide, for a brief moment—

Mito sends another jolt of chakra.

—and then softens again.

He can't hold it. Can't focus on the pain or hurt or memories. Can only drift, peacefully, as if he were on a cloud.

Yes, that's it. He's held aloft by clouds, ensconced in its passionless embrace, his thoughts kept at bay by its soothing emptiness.

So empty. He's so empty.

Empty of thought, empty of feeling, empty of memories.

And it's so nice to be like this, to not have to think.

He wishes he could always be like this.


	6. Back Into This Mortal Husk

**Back Into This Mortal Husk**  
  
  
It's fading. Slowly and surely, the clouds leave him. He stops drifting. His feet touch upon solid earth, and he realizes that he's not ensconced in perfect warmness, a loving embrace. No, he's mortal, real flesh and blood, and under him is mere cotton and silk.

He nearly cries when the realization dawns on him, when the nothingness drifts away to be replaced with...replaced with...

Cold.

He's cold.

He shouldn't be, still wrapped up in silk and cotton, but he can't stop shaking.

“Tobirama,” a soft feminine voice calls to him. “Tobirama.”

He gasps, like a man drowning (lies, lies, lies—he's never come close to drowning in his life), and shudders, pulling away from her (thankfully) composed distant frame.

“Tobirama,” she repeats again, and he's pathetically grateful that she doesn't even try to reach out, doesn't try to touch him. “Tobirama, this will be difficult, and I'm sorry for that, but do you feel that you can breathe now?”

Breathe?

Breathe.

He's...

He inhales, exhales, and the feeling is still there, that tremulous shaking inside of him (inside, it's inside, and it'll never leave him again) threatens to engulf his entire being. It threatens to take him, to eat him whole until he can't stop shaking, can't stop it seizing his entire being. He's staring, but he can't see, and his hands are clasping, bunching up the sheets, but he can't feel. And he's trying, trying to breathe until his chest feels tight with the effort of it, because there's no _air_ available to get inside, and he's failing...he's...!

“Tobirama!”

It's loud, shocking (unusual for this woman), and it's enough to shake him out of it.

He breathes.

He breathes, and the shaking subsides (not fully, never fully). His hands loosen on the sheets, the air clears around him, shifting into focus, shifting _Mito's_ face into focus.

Mito.

Mito, who is...safe.

Mito, who has never expected anything of him, never demanded anything of him, never asked anything of him.

It's enough.

He cries.

-~&~-

It's heartbreaking, watching someone so strong be brought so low. So low, in such pain, but never reduced, never that.

Mito knows better than that. What this man has suffered, what he suffered on _their_ behalf...she can only bow her head in gratefulness, can only play homage to the consequences of the sacrifice he's made (the consequences he still suffers from). He's suffered, and he's in pain, and the sheer strength he's displayed in the past, that he will need to display in the future...

No. There is nothing reduced about that.

She won't be so cavalier as to call it a stumbling block, as if it were something easily surpassed, a small insignificant whisper that passes as swiftly as it comes. It is difficult and gut-wrenching and the hardest thing she can think about. The hardest thing she can imagine.

Nor will she look upon him with hateful pity, a false self-satisfying thing, as she knows may come naturally. She _owes_ him. They all do. There is nothing wretched about him, about the state he is in right now. It is the hardest trial that she can imagine, but he is to be respected for it, helped when he needs it, given his space when not. Carefully watched and treated and taken care of and, most importantly, given as much time and space and understanding that he may need.

His sacrifice, the penance he must pay—undeserved for this man, unjust that this man should have to bear that penance at all—his suffering must be treated with dignity.

She purses her lips as a thought comes to her.

Hashirama, the man's actual brother, she will have to keep him at bay. Tobirama will not heal with his brother near.

Eventually, eventually they may attempt a reunion. But for now...

For now, even though she owes both, she will fulfill her duty to this one and further injure the other.


	7. A Beginning

**A Beginning**  
  
  
Izuna doesn't like to admit weakness. He doesn't like to prove that he is as fallible and vulnerable as the next person (unless that person be Aniki who he had always thought to be peerless in his character). He doesn't want to give any openings for which enemies would attack him, attack his clan and family through him, attack his brother through him.

But here, invited to visit Tobirama for the first time in weeks, seeing the man he admires shrink back instinctively—even from him! even from his own fellow prisoner!—he sets that all aside. He doesn't like the feeling that arises from seeing Tobirama's pain, Tobirama's barely held-back fear. He doesn't like the hesitancy that Tobirama is evincing, how pale and wan he looks. He doesn't like the churning in his chest, the rock in his throat, the pit opening in his stomach at his...his _friend's_ flinch.

He doesn't like it, but he'll stand it. Stand there and swallow down the pity that threatens to escape his throat, swallow down the instinctual need to move to the Senju's side, wrap him up in his arms and hold him until those fine tremors stop. (It's wrong to see Tobirama so hurt. It's wrong to see look like this, be like this.)

But that's not what he's here for.

Acclimation, Mito had said. Re-familiarizing with trusted faces. Slow reforging the bonds and using that in the healing process.

He can get on-board with that. He can.

He just needs to control himself, control his temperament and his hothead Uchiha nature.

For Tobirama.

For the man who gave so much of himself and bared his very soul to Izuna.

For the man who won him freedoms and sanity and life in an untenable situation.

He can do almost anything for Tobirama.

The thought gives him pause, and he considers it, examines it this way and that, tastes it upon his tongue and weighs it in his mouth.

Almost anything? Such a high and lofty position, his Senju has achieved! He never would have thought it likely only a few short months ago. Never would have regarded Senju (and particularly not _that_ Senju) with anything resembling even basic warmth or civility.

Rival.

Enemy.

Hated killer of kin and clan, the foiler of Izuna's plans, the thorn in their collective feet, achieving with his brain and prowess what stronger warriors with more brute strength could not. A different Tobirama to be sure. _His world's_ Tobirama, but Izuna is not so blind as to declare them truly that different. Mito's told him, and he's seen himself...they are the same but with a single difference.

He had hated that Tobirama. He had despised him, though respected his prowess, and sought to eliminate him at all costs.

He smiles, a tremulous, delicate thing upon his lips, and raises the teapot, pouring the hot tea into the cup and carefully holding it up to slender hands (too weak, too slender, too thin).

“I hope it is to your liking,” he whispers. “I've heard that...I've heard that gardenia can be helpful in relaxation.”

The pale hands hesitate, and for a moment, Izuna thinks that his offering will be rejected. (That's okay. He'll try and try and try and try. Anything. Anything that is required, asked of him.) But then those cold hands wrap carefully around the brittle little cermaic cup, rubbing over the imperfections on the side (characterizations, Madara had insisted, there is beauty in imperfection).

“Thank you.”

And Izuna can't help it but his smile broadens, grows genuine, and he feels as if he's personally saved every single member of his clan and family. He's gratified to see a tiny smile (the first in so many days) in return.

Hate? This man?

How things change.

If needed, he would kill for this man. Even more, he would abstain from killing for this man.


	8. Divergent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Drelfina sending me this link: http://www.bearnakedfood.com/2015/05/07/osmanthus-flower-jelly-with-wolfberries-2/

**Divergent**  
  
  
“How is it? Good?”

“Yes. Yes it is. Thank you.”

The lingering of a hand while passing over a cup of tea—where it doesn't need to linger. A furtive smile, hidden behind a cough. Shy glances, watching as the albino sips the tea slowly.

Madara leans over just slightly, just far enough so that he can peer over the edge of that cup, and yes, it's an herbal concoction said to be good for ailments of temperament. Able to lift spirits and infuse energy and vitality where there is none. It is a ridiculously expensive blend, available only from the highest, most reputable herbalists.

Madara wonders where Izuna got it from, which herbalist he went to, how much he now _owes_ that herbalist for his or her help.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and tries not to scream in frustration.

Weeks of this, when neither he nor Hashirama was allowed entrance, when only Izuna was welcome to visit with the recovering Senju. Weeks of this...this...this _attachment_ growing, like a weed that an inept and naive gardener had failed to pull up by the roots. Weeks of his brother, of his _precious_ little brother slowly falling more and more...

“I...I hope this isn't too forward of me, but I made you something. I read it can be very soothing and nutritious. And it will go well with the tea.”

“This is...! Oh, it is very lovely.”

“Yes, I made it myself. With osmanthus, wolfberry and konnyaku. And sweetened it with rock sugar. I hope you will like it.”

“...why do you do this? You spent so much time on me, and you even used a mold to shape it into a cherry blossom.”

“Cherry blossom to wish you luck in your healing! And how could I not? You have done so much for me...”

“I have only done what anyone else would have at the time. We were allied, and your world's Hashirama was growing dangerously unstable. What could have happened to you—”

“—and what _did_ happen to you. Tobirama, I owe you. Please do not make light of it. And I admire you, too.”

“Admiration. But you need only thank me in that case. You spend so much time with me—”

“—because I enjoy spending time with you.”

“What if I don't want you to spend that time?”

“Then I won't. Any way I can contribute, I will. But I won't make you uncomfortable by it.”

And it's this last that scares Madara. His little brother is so pure in his affection, so earnest in how he loves, so _oblivious_ that he even loves at all. The most blind fool could see it save Izuna himself. And what if Tobirama refuses him? What if Tobirama pushes him away in the end (as he's already pushing Izuna away)? What if he ends up taking Izuna from Madara?

There is no one who loves as deeply as an Uchiha, no one who loves as deeply as his little brother.

Izuna...

He doesn't want to see Izuna hurt.

Is that so bad? As an older brother, as the last thing they have...

Ah...but that isn't true anymore, is it? Izuna, Izuna might have Tobirama now. Madara even sees it happening. Despite Tobirama's attempts to push Izuna away, the Senju still hesitantly accepts those teas. Still brings a spoonful of that clear beautiful jelly that Izuna painstakingly made for him to his lips and swallows it down. Still sees the fruits of Izuna's labor, the outward demonstration of his love sliding down Tobirama's throat, caressing him from the inside and invading his body in the most gentle and intimate way.

Slowly and surely, Izuna is making ground. Carefully, respectfully in every way, gently, each gift with his soul in his very eyes, Izuna is forging that bridge between them, brick by brick.

Where then, does that leave Madara?


	9. The Slow Path

**The Slow Path**  
  
  
Where does this all leave Hashirama?

He's helped out. Helped save this world. Helped save these people and rid the world of the maniac who wore his face—dead, dead, dead and may he never rise to trouble them again, may he never gain the strength, may he ever become even a whisper of a thought in some unfortunate's head to hurt _Tobirama_ again—and what has he to show for it? What he sacrificed, and has he lost, and what does he stand to lose indefinitely?

He had thought to worry about his brother's awakening. He had thought to be condemned by his brother's eyes. He had thought to worry about his own reaction, about how he might follow in that insane man's footsteps.

He's not even given a chance.

Barred from his brother.

Mito (ungrateful, hard-hearted) refuses to let him even have a glimpse of him. Not while he's awake—

“He's recovering,” she would say, “and he would recover best without a reminder of what he was gone through.”

—and not while he's asleep—

“He's a sensor of unparalleled strength. If he should be infusing chakra in his sleep, then he would sense you. Would you claw back his hard-won peace with such trifles? Would you barter, would you _sell_ your brother's comfort and healing in this time for your own?”

And that's what it comes down to, isn't it?

For his similarity to that monster, his own brother can't bear to have him near. For the things he can't help—his appearance, his chakra signature, his personality—he's lost the right to see Tobirama.

He's lost the right...and Izuna has gained it. _Madara_ even, though Hashirama knows the man holds no great love for Tobirama.

(Another ungrateful, hard-hearted person. Hashirama has woefully misjudged them all.)

It _rankles_ that _Uchiha Izuna_, his brother's very _rival_ should get to see Tobirama when he himself can't. But that, at least, makes sense. Izuna has shown a consideration to Hashirama's brother that he would not have believed had he not been present when the man nearly came to blows with his own brother out of concern for Tobirama. It seems that mutual captivity has done what no amount of persuading from either Hashirama or Madara could do.

(If only he knew this so many months ago. If only he had known this on his own world.)

But that Madara be allowed access...!

The elder Uchiha doesn't even like Tobirama. Doesn't pretend to like him either (and even if he did, Hashirama doubts Tobirama would ever fall for false affection). He's churlish, from what Hashirama has overheard Izuna complaining about, he's distant and disdainful, he's everything that is unwelcoming, and Hashirama cannot even begin to fathom _why_ Mito allowed it. Why Madara should have that precious, coveted ability to see the most precious person in Hashirama's life...!

And why Mito should be allowed to make such decisions at all.

_She's not of your world_, his mind whispers. _She has no rights to him. No rights to Tobirama. She can't possibly know what she's doing..._

He wants to believe it. He wants to march up to her and demand that she step aside, accuse her of overstepping her bounds.

He doesn't.

He doesn't much for the same reason he doesn't really protest when Madara visits with Izuna, when they _all_ get to see the face he's longed to look upon for weeks now.

She does know, if not the best, then better than the rest of them. And Madara, for all of his belligerence, is a spot of unchanging antagonism, a reminder that things aren't as changed as they seem to be, a rock of stability for Tobirama to witness and take comfort in, even if the base of it is steeped in traditional Uchiha dislike.

And as for Hashirama...

It is the hardest pill to swallow, the knowledge that perhaps this is for the best. That perhaps he, of all people, is the most ill-equipped to see his brother, to help his brother.

He desperately wants to hold that white head to his chest and cling to that thin frame. He desperately wants to hear that mellow voice call his name, see that thin quirk of a smile and those riveting red eyes.

But...

He's been selfish before. Thinking only of his peace. Thinking only of his vision and his goal and his wants and dreams.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. So very, utterly selfish, even if his aims were good.

He won't be selfish this time.

If it gains his brother's smile back again? If it gives Tobirama peace of mind and allows him to heal from the horrible events he was forced to undergo?

Hashirama will amble along on the slow path, no matter how much he wants to sprint down to the finish.


	10. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**One Step Forward, Two Steps Back**  
  
  
It's going well, almost too well.

Tobirama is slowly recovering. He has more energy every day, and he's learning not to shy away from casual touches. The trust component is harder, but Izuna, of all people, has been wonderful there. He's patient and gentle and tireless, visiting day after day, week after week, pouring his heart and soul into the effort. (And Mito wonders if that's another debt she'll owe, another person she'll wrong, another heart she'll have broken with her own two hands.) It's a dangerous endeavor, what Izuna is trying. Expending _too_ much energy, giving his _all_ like that will only result in burnout and anger.

(Mito will keep an eye on Izuna if it looks like his patience is fraying. He won't do anyone any good if he exhausts himself. And if he won't rest and take a break, then she'll enlist Madara's help.)

But for now, she'll concentrate on others things. Tobirama is slowly healing, recognizing the safety of his current reality and casting off the nightmare of his past, like a bruised flower just starting to spread its petals and open up to the sun again. It's a delicate, slow process, and Mito constantly worries if there's something around that might set him back.

She swallows.

It's been...tough to keep Hashirama away. Perhaps tougher than she would have imagined.

Perhaps she is still soft to him. Perhaps her feelings for the original here never died, even if they did get warped. Perhaps...

Well, that is neither here nor there, and she knows better than to set her mind on things that cannot be. She must keep Hashirama away, for both of the Senju brothers' sakes. And she _will_ hold to her self-imposed duty, even if she thinks that this level of peace and progress can't last.

A few days later, she has the dubious pleasure of being right.

He's screaming. He's screaming and fighting off against his blankets, thrashing to be free of them, but when she tries to help, he kicks at her, desperately trying to break her arm (he succeeds). And then Madara, who was the last to leave, runs in, sees what's happening and...

He takes one look, sees her broken arm, and then Mito can read his intentions before he likely even knows what he's about to do himself.

_It's an accident_, she tries to scream, but can't quite get her throat working. _He didn't mean to! Stop it!_

But she's not fast enough to stop him, and he leaps forward, grabs Tobirama by his arms, and then pins him down. There's a second of wild fear in those red eyes, a too-long, too-endless moment of pain and panic as Tobirama goes _wild_...but then he just shuts down. Just...falls limp, his eyes like that of a wild rabbit's, in the grasp of a hawk and knowing it's about to die.

She scrambles up then. She scrambles up and uses her good arm to _wrench_ Madara away, praying that there's still time to salvage this, that they didn't just lose every single bit of process they've made.

(She can see it in Tobirama's eyes that it's a lost hope. She can see that they're back to square one.)

“Out,” she hisses and knows fury even greater than when Hashirama first betrayed her. Because that, at least, she couldn't have foreseen. But this...!

Tobirama is directly under her care. Tobirama is her responsibility.

He takes one look at her, one look at the wide-eyed and fear-frozen Senju on the bed. “I—” he begins, shame-faced.

She's having none of it.

With a harsh _push_, she yanks him out with her single good arm.

She'll be back soon, to care for Tobirama, to help calm him down from this. And she'll send in Izuna, to soothe him, to comfort him. But for now...for now there's an Uchiha for her to discipline.


	11. Once Again

**Once Again**  
  
  
Mito is furious at him.

Madara doesn't think he's ever seen her this mad, not even when they were all facing their Hashirama and looking death in the face. That was the time she had used that brilliant seal. That was the time she had brought them hope from another world. She had been strong and determined then, back straight and proud as she silently and quick worked her abilities, slipping her chakra in unnoticed until it was too late, red hair loose as it almost never was like a red banner in the wind while they choked in Hashirama's hold.

She saved them then. Saved them at the cost of those visitors from another world.

Her chakra had been life-giving then. Brilliant, bold as a whip.

It is not less whiplike now, its thrashing roiling energy almost raking at him and almost as sharp as her tongue.

“—_childish_, _petty_ tantrum that—”

He swallows, but doesn't dare stop her.

What can he say that would justify what he did?

He...he...

He doesn't even really know why he did it. Why he moved as he did. He saw only Mito, his ally, her arm broken, and a man he had always learned to think of as an enemy, forgetting for a second that that man is dead, that this man is someone he owes everything to. He had surveyed the scene in less than a single second and leapt to contain the threat.

He clenches his hands, the same hands that held down those too thin wrists. Those thin, fragile bones had trembled in his grasp even as he had grabbed them. The man had thrashed, had cowered, had gone boneless and defenseless and _wrong_ underneath him, and Madara...Madara, suddenly heartsick and appalled had _remembered_.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He hadn't done much. Just try to prevent the man from hurting anyone, from breaking any more bones, from going on the offensive.

He digs in his fingernails into his palms, his fingers slide in the sweat growing there.

He can still feel it, Tobirama's almost delicate wrists in his. He can still see it, Tobirama's absolute terror as he went limp in Madara's hands. And Madara...

Madara can only stand here and take Mito's anger. There's not much he can do to stop her. He had already done too much.

-~&~-

As soon as he sees him, Izuna feels a low and abiding anger enter him. At Tobirama's flinch—and how he despairs at seeing that, how he despairs at knowing how much progress they've lost in a single night—he forces the anger from him, wills calm and peace and tranquility instead.

Let his Senju sense only peaceful intentions. Let his Senju only receive warmth from him.

(He'll save the coldness for later, for when he sees Aniki again and explains to him _exactly_ how much they owe this beautiful man in front of him.)

For now, he seats himself nearby (close enough so that Tobirama doesn't feel alone, not so close as to invade his space), and puts down the tray of tea.

“I'm sorry,” he says, striving to keep his voice low and mellow.

He remembers Mito's instructions. Don't yell. Don't raise your voice. Don't make any sudden moves.

It's harder than he can believe right now, when all he wants to do is run out and _strangle_ Madara.

No.

Calming thoughts. Tranquility.

(Tobirama comes first right now.)

“My brother is an idiot, and I apologize on his behalf. I hope you don't mind that I made you some chrysanthenum tea?”

Perhaps he's successfully reined in his unruly emotions. Perhaps it's because he waits for Tobirama to reach out first, for Tobirama to initiate contact, Tobirama to make the choice. But whatever it is, he finds his heart lifted when, hours later, he watches a white head of hair rest softly on his pillow.


	12. On Uchiha

**On Uchiha**  
  
  
It's all a blur after that. The tea. The _cold, cold, cold_ inside of him, the specter of _Hashirama_ that lay in the background...

Tobirama startles awake. He tosses his head, looks about the room in a frenzy. It's hot, too hot for him in his bed. His blankets and sheets are strangling him, binding him down, immobilizing him for...for...

A flash of Hashirama before his eyes.

No!

His heart is racing, he's ready to jump—to run—he wants to flee and fling himself into the deepest part of a lake and never, ever come back out again. Water, surrounding him. Comforting, supporting, ever-present water, buoying him up, embracing him without harsh hands or a strong—too strong, too heavy, stop it!—form on top of him.

Hashirama again. Except...black hair. Wild, untamed black hair, not Hashirama's straight orderliness. Madara. Madara too? Madara is...

His throat closes, his breath is caught, and he's choking as the air inside of him has no place to go.

Madara is on top of him. On top of him and...

There's someone by his bedside. Someone there. Someone who...

(Hashirama or Madara?)

Run.

He wants to run.

He _needs_ to run.

Run and don't look back. Leave it all behind. Get to safety. Sort it all out later. Just run and...

He whips his head around, his eyes finally focus, finally fall upon a familiar dark-haired form by his bedside, the strands dark, but not unruly, not unkempt and...

Oh.

It's Izuna.

Not Hashirama. Not Madara.

Izuna.

Izuna, who brings him cups of tea and spends hours just sitting with Tobirama. Who stays even though it must be painfully boring sitting in the silence, who is never too close, but never so far either.

It's Izuna, by his bedside, slumped down in gentle—chrysanthenum tea, medicine, handmade jellies, osmanthus blossoms, _unassuming, unasking, undemanding_—slumber.

His heart calms. He can breathe again.

If...if Izuna's here...if Izuna's watching over him then...

It must be alright. It must be safe.

He slides back down, pulls the covers back up to his neck, burrows into his little nest of warmth.

It's not so constricting anymore, not so threatening. He can lie back down and rest in peace.

-~&~-

Madara joins him, banished from his brother, and Hashirama almost asks.

He doesn't though. He knows that, if he were to ask, he would know. And if he were to know, then he would be tempted to kill the other man.

(It had to be something bad. Madara had to have done something bad, to be kicked out like this, placed on chamber pot duty like an errand boy or a chambermaid, his own little brother ignoring his pitiful glances.)

Hashirama knows something of that. He knows something of longing for a brotherly presence by his side, of thinking about someone that's not around to see him or hear him. Madara's little brother ignores him, but Hashirama's little brother is barred from him, and Hashirama would give almost everything to be in Madara's place.

If only he can _see_ him again. Just a single glimpse. Just a single look so that he knows that thin chest is still rising, so that those dear red eyes can look upon him with exasperation in turn. (One moment, that's all he would ever ask for. Just a single moment, because it feels like an eternity that he's seen his little brother.)

And so, when Hashirama sees Madara trudging around, chamber pot in hand, shame-faced but still dutifully fulfilling his unpleasant duty, Hashirama doesn't ask.

Only looks and envies.


	13. Beginning Anew

**Beginning Anew**  
  
  
The human mind, human resilience, is a beautiful thing. Deceptively fragile, seemingly weak, and prone to setbacks—

“Just _leave me be_!”

“No! No, I _won't_! Not until I'm sure you're fine, that you won't do anything that will hurt yourself further!”

“I don't need watching all the time. I'm a grown man—I can do things myself!”

“I _know_ that! You're the strongest person I've met. But that doesn't mean you can't be hurt and vulnerable and need someone, now and then. That's all I want to be! That person who's there for you, just this once.”

“You've already done so much. So much for someone so _pathetic_ that he still gets shaken up by something so mundane as common nightmares...!”

“And that's absolutely _normal_! You've gone through so much. You've done so much for us, for this world, for _me_.”

“I've been a burden, don't pretend otherwise. I've taken up your taken, taken you from your brother, caused you all so much trouble, and all because I'm too _weak_ and _helpless_ that I—”

“—that you've saved this world. Saved me. Saved my brother's sanity, because believe you me, if Hashirama had killed me, then I know my brother would be the next to go mad. It's how he is. You've done so much for us all, and if you would just accept our help, then—”

“...I'm sick of being helpless. I'm sick of feeling like I'm useless and fit for nothing but to mooch off of other people's kindness.”

A sigh. The sound of a hand running softly along silk coverlets.

“It's not kindness, you know.”

“You are _very_ kind—”

“—oh, I know that. But I mean that what I'm doing now isn't kindness. It's gratitude. It's respect. It's paying the proper appreciation for what you've given to me. I admire you so very, very much.”

“For what? For getting captured? For whoring myself to a man who looks and feels exactly like my own _brother_?”

“No! For having the strength to do what's necessary to win us critical strategic advantages in a war! For being so thoughtful and careful even in the hold of duress that you thought of me, thought of my own captivity and sought to make it better! For being the man I _never_ thought a Senju could ever be! For being the man that I never thought my own rival was!”

An audible gulp.

“I was wrong, you know, about my rival. If you two are so similar, then I must be wrong. I'm very sorry to have killed him.”

“It was...if it was anything like my world, then it was likely a life or death situation, as my own was. Except where in my world, it was Izuna who fell, possibly with a mortal wound—”

“—in this world, it is _you_ that fell.”

A brief silence.

“I can't say that I'm sorry that I live, but, I am sorry to have robbed this world of you. You are...you are so much better and more worthy that I would ever have imagined, Tobirama. I am utterly grateful to have been given the means to know you better.”

—just as it makes remarkable recoveries.

“And I, too, am grateful to have known who you truly are, Uchiha Izuna. You are...a much kinder and more patient person that I would ever have supposed. I don't deserve your—”

“Oh, not _this_ again! I swear to you, Senju Tobirama, that you deserve every bit of admiration that comes your way. I _like_ you. I like being around you. It is no hardship to sit with you and to speak. I came to know you when we were both gagged by danger, silenced by the man who wore your brother's face. I would come to know you better with words and gestures now that we are free to.”

A swallow.

“You are...I am truly sorry to have mortally wounded you in my world.”

“Just as I am sorry to have killed you in mine. But I hope that...that whatever may come, we can bridge that gap. Whatever the future may hold, I am glad to have been given this chance, to know the you from that other world.”

A chuckle.

“Poet.”

“Cynic.”

And then, “thank you, Izuna. I...”

“Thank you.”

And Mito walks away from the door, satisfied that she is not needed at this moment.


	14. Uchiha Love

**Uchiha Love**  
  
  
It's so long in the making that he doesn't even realize he's going through the process until it's just about complete.

He's sitting by Tobirama's side, chatting with him, smiling as that barest crinkle appears around his eyes, as the lovely curl of his lips quirks up ever so slightly, ever so gently, and those beautiful red eyes fill with a soft, wondering light—has he ever seen eyes like that? Like the softest red velvet, utterly deep and full of sentiment, eyes fully worthy of an Uchiha and an Uchiha's affection.

He's sitting there, hand raised, chestnut wagashi (hours in the collecting, the roasting, the making) held delicately in between the abalone covered chopsticks, relishing the delicate blush that suffuses those pale cheeks, and it's no more than a single stray thought. A single, almost inconsequential, blip in his thoughts. It passes so quickly that he almost doesn't take heed of it, caught up as he is in soaking up the Senju's presence, like night-blooming jasmine, seeking the moon.

He's smiling, nestled closely into that silk bedding, so close to a pale hand, and—

_I don't want to wake up tomorrow without him_.

He doesn't mean to think it. He doesn't mean to _mean_ it, not even to himself, but it's there nonetheless, haunting the back of his mind, taunting him with its presence.

He's Uchiha.

He knows what it means.

_Heartbreak, insanity, tragedy_...

But...

But he is Uchiha. He can't make himself regret it, can't make himself take it back.

The truth is, he's lost his heart long ago, the process begun the very second he met this man as a non-combatant, on the same side of the battlefield. _The very first time he beheld him trying to futilely escape the man who shared his brother's face_.

He's not surprised.

Senju Tobirama is everything he's ever wanted, now that he's allowed to get to know the other man. And even if it leads him to his doom...

Well.

He is Uchiha.

And such will be his fate.

-~&~-

He looks at the two of them (barred from the room, barred from that man's side and therefore kept from his own brother since that's where Izuna chooses to spend his hours now), and he knows.

It's _toolatetoolatetoolatetoolate_.

An Uchiha falls only the once, but an Uchiha falls hard. And his brother, his dearest, sweetest, most sincere and innocent otouto, has fallen hard.

It's in the way he looks at the Senju, in the way those dark eyes seek out the brilliant red, in the way he solicitously offers to feed the other man handmade wagashi and precious teas he's brewed with his own two hands, and the way he seeks out the highest grade of medicine for him.

An Uchiha gives their heart in a way few others do, and Izuna has given it his all.

Everything.

As if the Senju held Amaterasu's benevolence in his very eyes, and the very moon's grace and beauty within his every gesture.

It's everything that Madara's feared, but now that it's happened...now that it's too late, he can only move forward.

One foot after the next. Onward towards the future, no matter how painful or what lies ahead.

He's practical, Madara is. And even if his heart twists in bitterness over his brother's fate, even if he cannot regard the Senju with any form of charity—he owes him, he owes him, he fucking owes him, but he just _cannot_—_still._

Still, he will make the attempt. 

He's an elder brother. His little brother is his everything. And if his little brother's happiness, if his little brother's very _sanity_ depends on Senju Tobirama, then Madara will do his best to make sure it happens. 

He'll set aside his misgivings. Do his best to make up for his previous mistake; seduce the Senju with Uchiha familial love—Izuna's tender love, and Madara's burning love of family. It must be enough. It _must_. Win Senju Tobirama and convince him to stay in this world, be with them of his own free will. 

(Stay with Izuna. Stay here. Be _happy_ here.) 

And if Hashirama is left alone by it, if Hashirama is hurt by it? 

Then that's a price Madara's willing to pay. 


	15. Wandering

**Wandering**  
  
  
It's like wandering in a dream. Or a desert.

Days, weeks, _years_ of being in a haze, of wandering without water, without sustenance, without relief, to be met with an oasis of warmth, a friendship he never thought possible, a man he had once written off as arrogant and hateful. Uchiha Izuna, suspicious, crafty and so very dangerous. Uchiha Izuna, responsible for so many deaths in his clan, who had been there to ambush his Anija on that day he so foolishly put his trust into the eldest surviving son of the Uchiha.

Uchiha Izuna, his enemy, his rival, his counterpart in every way.

(Just as determined. Just as deadly. Just as worthy.)

But who could blame him? He's only ever known the man's frowns, his opponent's snarls across a battlefield, that pale face marked with blood and eyes dripping with a promise of pain and death. Such is the fate of enemies across a field of war. Such is the fate of a matched pair from rival clans.

(It has always been to the death for them.)

But now...

Those pale hands, fine and long and slender, like his own, pluck delicately at the apple cradled within until the round globes have transformed into a small hutch of apple bunnies. They offer it to him, the hands so careful not to touch him even as a small smile dances along those curved lips.

The man himself sits just a little away from Tobirama, enough so that he doesn't feel the heat of proximity, so that he can breathe safely. And close enough so that he can sense him, can feel the comforting prickle along his skin and know that _Uchiha Izuna_ is there, next to him, within easy reach without crowding him, sitting in companiable silence and...

And he's so pathetically grateful for it.

The nightmares don't come when Izuna's here. There's no pressure on him. Just...

Just peace.

And at first, Tobirama thought it was just some game. Just a way for Izuna to pass his time, to pay him back for the small comforts he managed to win the Uchiha during both their captivities and then move on.

It was unbearable, the thought that he's just a debt to pay off. The thought of being a burden.

And he took it out on him. Tried to push him away. Thrown accusations and everything he could get his hands on at the man. Screamed at him to go away, screamed that he was sick of being a bother, sick of being nothing but a pathetic burden, sought to drive the patience out of the man so that he'd reveal his true colors...

He did reveal his true colors. He's revealed his true colors all along.

Izuna is...Izuna is...

He's everything Tobirama could want in a brother, in _family_. Unquestioning acceptance. A warm, gentle smile that _accepts_ him. Companionship and presence without being pushy, without being forceful. A gaze that actually sees him.

And he's so happy, so grateful to have been allowed to see this side of Izuna, to experience it.

_To know the feeling of being part of Izuna's family._

-~&~-

It's like wandering in a nightmare, like following through the most beautiful scenery in a fog before reaching the end and realizing that the beauty was all a sham and that he is surrounded by horrors beyond imagining.

Because...because...

Because it's been weeks, near a full month, and he hasn't seen even a glimpse of his brother, of his Tobira.

So many days of stewing in his loneliness. So many days of replaying the events that led him where he is right now, over and over and _over_...

He's gone through it all. He's dissected each and every memory, pouring over the details, scrutinizing his own behavior as if it were some new poisonous plant he must learn, all in the hopes of mending his behavior, of mending his brotherly bond, and _they won't let him_.

Tobira's not ready. Tobira's still healing. Tobira's still grounding himself, and...

He's waited.

He's waited and waited and _waited_, and he tries, but he can't help it, can't help the dark thoughts that circle inside of his brain.

What if Tobira will never be ready? What if the last time he spoke to him, the last time he had his brother's regard and confidence was before that last battle with the Uchiha, back on his own world? _What if Tobira's last memory of him was him refusing to see his otouto?_

It hurts.

The very thought of it rakes like sharp nails through his mind and _it hurts_.

He wants to barge in. He wants to force himself in and throw himself at Tobira's feet. He wants to take his Tobira into his arms and _beg_ for forgiveness, beg forgiveness for being a terrible older brother. He wants to kiss his brother on the cheeks and promise he will do better and...

He just wants to see Tobira again.

Is that so much to ask?

Just once, he wants to see him again.

But...

He swallows. He remembers the other Hashirama. Remembers that his counterpart had only followed his own wants, his own desires, and what it cost him. _What it cost everyone._ Remembers that his own relationship is strained because of his selfishness. Remembers that he once turned from his brother after a battle because his own dreams swam before his eyes.

He must do better. He _will_ do better.

And that means he must remain strong and firm.

Even if it costs him.


	16. Almost

**Almost**  
  
  
It's tricky, balancing the needs of multiple people. Tobirama takes priority. He's currently the most vulnerable and has the most need. But then, after that, it is Hashirama.

He's unraveling.

(Of course he is. He's been made aware of how unstable, how tenuous his most important relationships are, and he's threatened in a way he has never been before, distrusting his own future in a way he's likely never done.)

He longs to see his brother but assiduously follows Mito's commands not to. He performs every task she asks of him, helping to rebuild the village outside even as his mind is on the family he has not seen in over a moon now.

(It reminds her of her ex-fiance, of how he was, in the past, before his brother died. It reminds her of the man he could have been, the man he had been shaping up to be.)

She doesn't think she can or should keep him away for much longer.

It's difficult, gauging Tobirama's healing, getting past Izuna's jealous guard—and who would have thought that Uchiha Izuna would become such a guard dog, that the Uchiha would devote his entire being to a man who is the very image of his rival in the way he has done?—but Mito is nothing if not circumspect and thorough.

Tobirama is very nearly there, and Hashirama waits for him. Patient, longing and fearful of rejection.

-~&~-

He doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want to think about it or allow it, but...

His Tobirama is healing. His Tobirama is healing and almost ready to face his brother again. Face the man who is the spitting image of his attacker, of his abuser. Face the man who had all but abandoned him even in their own world.

Izuna doesn't want to allow it. He wants to be selfish and have Tobirama's attention all to himself.

And why shouldn't he? It is _he_ who saw Tobirama through the difficult times. _He_ who was so careful with the other man. _He_ who devoted his days to sitting with him, cooking for him, caring for him.

He swallows.

But...in the end, he is Uchiha. And Uchiha understand the value of family.

He loves Tobirama. He adores him...and he knows that Tobirama doesn't love him in that way. That Tobirama sees him as a confidant, a valued friend, perhaps even family.

He loves Tobirama, and so he won't keep him to himself. Tobirama needs this last step in his healing. And even if Hashirama will ultimately want to take Tobirama away from him, even if Izuna loses Tobirama...

_If he's happy, then that's enough._

-~&~-

Mito speaks of reintroducing the two brothers, and the part of Madara that remembers what Hashirama was like as a friend, that remembers his time as a child by the river rejoices. Family is important, and this Hashirama has been nothing but good to them.

The greater portion despairs.

If Hashirama mends his relationship, if Hashirama reconciles with Tobirama and takes him back to their own world, then what happens to Izuna? What happens to Madara's precious brother, left behind?

_Madness_, his mind whispers. _A broken heart and a broken spirit and nothing good._

Nothing he should allow.

But...

But surely Izuna himself would protest? Surely he would want to keep Hashirama away in the realization that he stands to lose the one person he's fallen for?

Except...Madara's otouto is placid. Calm in the face of impending doom. Sadly resigned to the eventuality of losing his newfound closeness to the albino from the other world.

The Aniki in Madara wants to forbid the meeting. Wants to isolate the Senju until the frayed brotherly bond is broken entirely and supplanted by new ones. Wants to keep Tobirama here for his Izuna, so that his Izuna can be happy and whole and damn everything else.

But the decent man in Madara...the decent man in Madara quails at the thought. It's one thing to convince the man to stay with the force of Uchiha familial love. It's one thing to entice him. It's another one entirely to purposefully wreck Hashirama's chances so that the man will never see his brother again.

He's ashamed to say that he's almost swayed, when Mito makes preparations. He's almost swayed to sabotage it all.

(It's Izuna. It's Izuna's acceptance, the growing closeness he can sense between Izuna and Tobirama.)

(If his brother can accept it, then...)


	17. Marching to Battle

**Marching to Battle**  
  
  
He doesn't know if he's ready. Mito says he is. Izuna rubs at his back encouragingly, but it's terrifying, the thought of seeing him again, of having _him_ near.

It's not fair, he knows. His Anija did nothing wrong. Not truly.

Oh, he knows what the pity in Mito's eyes mean. He's overheard Izuna's mumblings and deprecations against his brother. And as fond as he is of Izuna, he can't help but disagree with this. His brother, his Anija, is not a man to put his all into one person. His great love, his great loyalty is to ideals, not people. And so, even though Tobirama was admittedly hurt when Hashirama would not see him after that last battle, even though he couldn't help but mope in his own room afterwards, he doesn't blame him.

He doesn't blame his brother.

After all, he might well have cost his brother his peace. And what is Hashirama without the dream of peace, without the dream of peace with the Uchiha and Madara in particular?

No, he cannot blame his brother.

He loves him, too well and truly, for that.

And that's why he hates that he's afraid to see him, that he trembles at the very thought of beholding that tall form, once loving, now forbidding. That long, long brown hair, the well tanned skin and the brown eyes—all earthern hues, suitable for his mokuton, all exactly like that of Tobirama's attacker, of the insane Hashirama of this world—he despairs of seeing it. He despairs of feeling that achingly familiar, wretchedly green chakra that he had thought he'd known so well, but then found out that he did not know at all. He despairs at the thought of the Senju hakama and haori his brother will be swathed in.

All of it, every bit of everything that makes his brother his brother. Every bit that Anija calls his own, every bit that he once looked upon fondly. It was all turned to ashes by the man who wore his face. And now, Tobirama doesn't know if he can bear it again, even the reminder of it...!

And that's not fair.

Not to his Anija, who didn't do anything wrong, who didn't do anything to deserve this.

He can push on. He must push on. He must will himself to heal, to abide by his brother, to see him again.

And so, when Mito asks, when Izuna hovers, Tobirama forces himself to smile and nod.

He will see his brother again.

He will see his brother, get over this and finally, _finally_ be okay again.

-~&~-

He doesn't know if he's ready. He doesn't know if Tobirama's ready either. Mito has said that he is, that he's agreed to see Hashirama again, agreed to let Hashirama visit him.

He's looking forward to this. He's been dreaming of this moment, of seeing his dear otouto again, of making up for past mistakes, of apologizing for allowing that madman for taking him, for all that he's suffered in that man's hands...!

He's looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time.

What if...what if Tobira turns from him? What if Tobira, what if _his_ Tobira turns from him, turns his face away and can't look at him? What if Tobira flinches away from his chakra signature or collapses like last time? What then?

It would break him. It would shatter what remains of his heart, the knowledge that his brother may never be able to look upon him amicably again, that he may have gone through all of this, saved an entire world to get his brother back just to lose his brother anyways. It would make him regret all the what-ifs and could-have-beens that he's previously been blind to. Yearn for all those times he had Tobirama at his side, guarding his back, solidly supporting him, always there, _and he never saw him_.

What if that's his fate, to only see his otouto now, to only appreciate his otouto now once he can no longer depend upon his strength or look upon his face? What if that's the punishment for his blind, arrogant ways, where he steamrolled over everyone else in pursuit of his own dreams, his own vision? What then?

He paces back and forth in his room, awaiting the time that Mito will call him forward, when he can finally be in the same room as his precious otouto.

What then? Well, then, he'll just have to march forward. If that be his fate, than he'll do everything in his power to derail it, but he won't do anything to further hurt Tobirama.

His otouto, his precious, precious otouto, has suffered enough.

Now, Tobirama comes first, and his dreams second.

As he paces, he spies a mirror, and a thought comes to him...


	18. A Harkening To the Past

**A Harkening To the Past**  
  
  
A few simple changes, really. And it's easy, much easier to do, to return, to rebecome than it was to spend these past few days in nervous turmoil, in uncertainty. It's so easy that it only takes a few strokes. A few strokes, a bit of touch-up and with Mito's help, he walks into the room and—

  


—and whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this. The man who walks in could be no other, and Tobirama _recognizes_ him immediately, _knows_ him immediately, _remembers_ him immediately, but not as the attacker that forced himself upon him. Not as that monster who ignored everything that he wanted to try to turn him into someone who was already dead.

No, his Anija has...his Anija has become—

  


—the man he used to be, long ago. Before they drifted apart. Before they grew further and further from each other, separated by ideology, by loyalty, by unspoken resentments and loss friendships and differing loyalties to fathers and just outright _fatigue_.

Hashirama would have thought it would be difficult to regrow this part of him, to resemble this young version, not just in style and looks (a sharp knife, a bit of scrounging around for something that resembled his old outsized hakama, the pale green haori that Tobirama used to tease him about, the white scarf that topped it all and the dark green ties), but in chakra as well. But it is still easy.

Mito's seals trap his chakra, mute it so that he's not as strong, not as jarring on senses as sharp and sensitive as his brother's. Mito's seals return him to a previous time, with the chakra feel of a young boy, naive, new, innocent. When he was still Tobirama's dearest Anija and nothing else.

And he can see that it is—

  


—still not enough. Tobirama shudders and can't help shrinking away.

Oh, it helps. It helps immensely to be reminded of that faraway time, of when he was at more peace with himself and with his brother. When things were relatively simple and his Anija was just a big thick log, a sounding board for Tobirama's sharp tongue. He had been harsh on his brother then, he knows, but the only time he's ever given his brother cause to doubt his loyalty is when his father directly ordered him to.

(And Hashirama knows he could never disobey a direct order like that.)

No, it most definitely helps.

But it's not enough. That face is still...still...and those eyes...

He shudders, turns away, trembles.

But perhaps it's just enough. Perhaps it's just enough—

  


—to start with. Of all the reactions Hashirama was expecting, was _dreading_, light shudders is probably the least of them. Turning away from him can only be expected. But the fainting, the sinking into catatonic shock, the collapsing into a state where his precious little brother relapses back into what he had been over a month ago, _that_ did not happen.

It's progress.

Slow, painstaking progress, made all the more slow for the fact that Hashirama can't be here. That he's part of the problem that needs to be overcome. But it's progress.

It's a start. A wretched, slow start to a wretched slow process that will likely take several more weeks (if not a lifelong endeavor), but his Tobirama, his precious, beloved little brother, is healing.

That he can bear to see Hashirama again, however pained, however much he must turn his face away...that one split second of genuine pleased surprise...he can't ask for more. He never even expected this much to begin with.


	19. To Build A House

**To Build A House**  
  
  
Trust is like building a house. It takes effort and constant work, laying the stones for the foundation, setting up the wooden sides, slotting together everything just right, and sanding down the rough edges. And like with a house, it is easier to burn down than to rebuild. A small flame, an unattended spark, and the entire thing lights on fire, trapping everything precious inside and choking it all.

_His brother ripped from him. His brother's cry when they first found him, collapsing like a puppet without a controller, blank-eyed and insensate no matter how much Hashirama called to him. His brother shuddering in his arms and screaming mindlessly._

Hashirama, as master of the mokuton (as one of the most charismatic children born to the Senju), is well aware of the energy it takes everyone else to do what it takes him but a few moments of concentration. The gratitude he's met with, when he speeds months of work, the bowing and scraping of his clients as he manages to erect something they could never achieve in a full year, the envy of his enemies as his ability...it's something he's been aware of his entire life. Not taken for granted, though that would have been easy, but understood. Acknowledged. Used.

_His easy friendship with Madara in his own world. The fondness of the clan despite his outlandish ideals. The willingness to follow him from the lowest novice shinobi no mono to Tobirama himself, nearly his equal in every way._

And now, as he struggles the slow way, as he struggles to lay that very first stone of the foundation itself, he thinks he can fully appreciate it. Day by day. Slowly acclimating Tobirama to his presence again. Slowly getting his otouto used to his face again, used to his chakra signature. There are bad days.

Days when, the moment his feet pass through the door, Tobira turns away and retches. It's always disheartening, those days, and perhaps even more so to see how quickly, how readily Tobira turns to Izuna, how much _his_ otouto trusts the younger Uchiha. (A part of him can't help but note the irony, that two men who mortally wounded each other in different worlds should come together thus.)

_The stench of vomit, the soft cries of his most precious person, the knowledge that he's the problem, he's the one causing it all._

And there are days where he is so hopeful that he feels like he could float across the very ground he walks on. Days where Tobira looks to him and doesn't shudder, doesn't turn his face. Days where they are able to trade a bit of conversation—just a bit, never more than a little bit. It's slow, painstakingly slow, but Hashirama can't help but feel grateful for even that amount of progress.

_The feather-soft hint of a smile on his brother's ashen face. The bloom of color slowly returning to wan cheeks._

Building a house to live in, building a _home_ and a _family_ is the work of a lifetime. Laying that foundation is possibly the most important task a person could ever undertake in his or her life. And Hashirama, having had to watch someone with his exact likeness douse his home in oil and use a katon on it for good measure, can only start anew.

And so he shifts aside the rubble of the fold, set down those stones and starts to grow new green shoots over it, hopefully building a stronger and more sturdy wall than he bothered to do so before.

Building a bond is the work of a lifetime. And he will spend his lifetime doing it.


	20. At The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Done! Finally...now to start another drabble fic...

**At The End**  
  
  
Tobirama knows a few truths and has known them his entire life.

One, that Izuna will always be his enemy.

-~&~-

“Tobirama...you know...I didn't ever mean to say this, but...”

A hand, almost steady but for a slight shake, pours the tea, and Tobirama smells the scent of warm jujubes and longan. The rich warmness trails like silk down his throat and heats him from the inside, suffusing his chest in a warmth from more than the softly fragrant and sweet tea.

A shy blush. The offer of a dried persimmon. The gentle clasp of hands on his own, resting ever so delicately on his pulse.

The most their owner has ever dared in these few months.

“I really, really do like you.”

“But you shouldn't feel obligated to return my feelings or anything. I don't think it's the time for that. Not as things have happened so far. But, if you aren't against it, and if we see each other again...”

“If our paths should cross when you return to that life you left behind, and I resume my own here, then...”

“Then, if it's not too much to ask, I would like to sit with you and have some tea.”

“I would like to consider us friends, and I should be glad and grateful if you...if you take this with you when you leave.”

-~&~-

Two, that his Anija will only ever have eyes for his dreams. That nothing else will truly exist for him.

-~&~-

“Tobira... Tobira, I am glad to see that you are better. That you are better and healing.”

A pause.

“Tobira, you...you smile more these days. I see your eyes go to Izuna-san very often.”

“I know that...that you would like to see his face over mine. That the two of you are very close now.”

“...no. No, I don't Tobira. I don't blame you at all. Izuna has proven himself. He's never failed you ever since he took a liking to you. And I...”

“I know. I know that I haven't been a good Anija, not nearly the Anija you deserve.”

“But Tobira...I want you to know that...”

“...that Anija's always seen you. Even when it looked like I didn't, even when it looked like I only thought about Madara and the Uchiha and peace, Anija's always also seen you.”

“You're surprised, I see. I'm...I'm sorry that I wasn't good at letting you know that. I would...”

“Anija would never trade you for anything. If I had to choose, between Madara and peace on one side, and you on the other...”

“Tobira. I want you to know that...Anija would choose you.”

“I was bad at showing that. I thought everyone would just _know_, and that I could push and push and push and everything would just fall into place. But...”

“You got hurt, Tobira, and it's partly my fault.”

“No, no. No, Tobira. I'm right, and you know it. That other me...what he did. What he sacrificed, _who_ he sacrificed, however unintentionally...I know that I would have been as blind.”

“And you got hurt for it. You were hurt _before_, and I...”

A swallow. A sigh.

“I'm rambling again. Tobira, I want you to know that...”

“Anija wants you to know that you have a choice. Anija loves you. Anija would miss you. But you have grown close to Izuna, and if you want...you can stay here, where you're happy. Anija would...Anija would miss you but...”

“Anija wants you to be happy, above all.”

“It's your choice, and whatever you choose, Anija hopes that...”

“_I_ hope that...that you can forgive this foolish older brother for his idiocy in the past.”

“Tobira...Tobira, I love you.”

-~&~-

And three, that he would always walk his path alone, understood by only a few, that his circle will never grow.

-~&~-

“Tobirama-san. I see that you are fully well now.”

“Yes, Tobirama-san. I worked on those seals as you asked.”

“Hm? Are they ready? No, not quite. But I think that, with one last bit of input, I can have them fully functional.”

“But before you leave, I want to thank you. You and Hashirama. You two saved this world, however unwilling I dragged you both here. And now...and now we are making breakthroughs in seals that even I would never have dreamed of in the past.”

“So, thank you, Tobirama-san. And thank you, too, Hashirama-san.”

“I bid you two goodbye for now...but it isn't the last I'll see of you, is it?”

“I can still hardly believe it.”

“It's really a breakthrough, isn't it? A trans-dimensional bridge...”


End file.
